The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the school's training hall. Today, Haruto Nishimura and Sora Minamoto would face their classmates in a friendly—but highly competitive—sparring session.
Haruto's eyes scanned the room, noting every detail—the positions of the students, the available space, even the slight wear on the wooden floorboards. Beside him, Sora adjusted her hair, her mind running through strategies. Unlike Haruto, she didn't rely on brute strength; her advantage lay in observation and quick problem-solving.
"Ready, Nishimura?" called Daichi Kobayashi, one of the rivals from the upperclassmen, his black hair glinting under the sunlight.
Haruto simply nodded. No words were needed—the calm in his stance spoke volumes.
The bell rang. The students paired off, and the first sparring matches began. Movements were quick, precise, and controlled—each student testing limits without causing real harm.
When Haruto stepped into the ring opposite Daichi, the air seemed to tense. Both were S-tier fighters, known for skill rather than reckless power. Their first clash was lightning-fast. Daichi threw a series of sharp, disciplined strikes, testing Haruto's defense. Haruto dodged, countered, and maneuvered with a grace that made the fight look like a dance.
Sora watched intently, noting Haruto's tactical decisions—how he baited, feinted, and turned Daichi's strengths against him. Even from the sidelines, she could predict his next move.
Finally, with a controlled sweep, Haruto brought Daichi off balance, signaling the end of the round. No one was hurt, but the message was clear: Haruto Nishimura's skill was unmatched in the room.
As Daichi stepped back, a mixture of respect and frustration showed in his eyes. "You're… good," he admitted, brushing off sweat.
Haruto offered a small, polite bow. "And you're not bad yourself. There's always room to improve."
Sora approached him afterward, a smile of admiration and challenge on her face. "Don't get too comfortable. Tomorrow, I'll be the one surprising you."
Haruto laughed softly, the sound calm and reassuring. "I'll be ready. That's the fun of it—competition."
In that training hall, amidst sweat and effort, the first sparks of true rivalry—and camaraderie—were ignited. Friendships would form, challenges would grow, and every day would push them closer to discovering the limits of their strength, strategy, and spirit.
---